


I would always choose you

by Madita1908



Series: The Saint and the Rockstar [2]
Category: The Secrets of the Immortal Nicholas Flamel - Michael Scott
Genre: F/M, Hate, Italy, Love, begining, bodyshame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-26
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:27:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,407
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21574501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Madita1908/pseuds/Madita1908
Summary: Joan and Francis are together in italy shortly after they decide to try a relationship. But Joan has a secret.
Relationships: Francis Saint-Germain/Joan of Arc
Series: The Saint and the Rockstar [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1554796
Kudos: 5





	I would always choose you

**Author's Note:**

> If you don't like the topic of Bodyshaming, don't read it.  
> I was confronted with this a lot of times and this is my way to process it.  
> Also, this is a translation. If there are any mistakes please let me know.
> 
> Thanks for being here.

"Do not you want to take off your clothes, Joan? The weather is hot," the count of Saint-Germain wondered as he came out of the water and sat down on the blanket beside his girlfriend. Still, he couldn’t believe, that they were in a relationship.

Joan looked at him briefly and then at the sea. "I’m fine," she replied and smiled for a split-second.  
"Whatever you say," mumbled Francis, not really believing her but instead of saying so, pressing her a kiss on the cheek. For a while the two were, listening to sea, before the immortal spoke again: "We could settle here too, couldn’t we?"  
Since the end of the war, the immortals had been living in a remote Italian village, far away from the big cities. Joan looked up. "Do you like it here, Francis?", she requested. It was clear that he liked this place, but she wasn’t sure if she would like to build up a live here. Of course, the past five months had been wonderful, but she was a real country girl and on the other hand needed a city nearby.  
"Yes, I do like it here. What about you?"

"We can stay here for a while. I guess I will get use to this country." Joan let her eyes glide over the beach again. Italy was beautiful, that was out of the question, but she somehow missed her home in Paris. Well that had been in Paris. But before she could say something about it, she noticed how the horizon over the sea began to darken, and the wind picked up.  
Soon, heavy raindrops began to fall down on the couple. In a hurry, they picked up everything up and ran home. They didn’t manage to get to their little home in time, but Francis gentleman like, refused to use the bathroom, letting Joan being the first. She smiled thankful at him, as she opened the door.

"I'll make sure there is enough hot water", he promised before she had disappeared in the bathroom, only having him thanked with a nod.  
Soaking wet, Francis walked down into the small basement and warmed the water pipes and the water tank of the shower with his fire magic, something Joan disliked very much. Filling up the tank, he wondered if she hated fire because of her near-death experience or if it was something else. _“I would hate fire if I was about to be put to death by it”_ the count thought, _“But after over 400 years I would have let go of this fear.”_

Shivering, he went back up and lit a small fire in the fireplace, to heat up the chilly room. After hanging up their blanket near the fire to dry, Francis went to the small closet to find a towel to dry himself up. There weren’t any towels in the closet, and the master of fire looked everywhere in the house, but all the towels had gone, and he didn’t want to use their bed covers.  
Now, the only remaining option was to scurry to the bathroom and get a used, unwashed towel. _"She'll kill me if I go to the bathroom right now,"_ Francis thought as he walked over to the bathroom door.  
Joan was stubborn in her privacy. They had been together for almost half a year, but she wore only long-sleeved blouses and long knickers. She made sure to get up first, so he would never see her naked or part naked. He was sad about this, but he had got used to it and respected this.  
In his opinion, she was the most stunning creature he had ever seen.  
And now? Now he would invade that privacy and probably ruin everything.

Taking a deep breath, he knocked at the door and when he heard nothing, the count quietly pushed down the doorknob to open it.

Joan was standing front of the sink, brushing her teeth, seeming not notice him.  
He froze for a moment in his motion and just watched her. Even barely dressed, she was beautiful. His eyes wandered up and down her body, taking in every part he could see and swallowed slightly. There was a great scar on her shoulder blade and also her calves showed up so some scars.  
Silently, the French count tried to escape the room again, but unfortunately, he hit his foot at the wooden frame of the door and cursed loudly.

Startled, Joan dropped her toothbrush and pulled the towel closer around her body. Her entire body immediately stiffened.  
"What ... what are you doing here ?!" she asked confused, not turning to look at him.  
"I just need a towel," Francis answered truthfully, "To dry me up, so I don’t wet and ruin everything." He did not move an inch but looked at her. Minuets passed and he hasn’t had an answer. This situation seemed to overburden her, he realized with shock. "Joan ..."  
"Can’t you just grab a towel and leave?", Her snapped after a few minutes and soon she had untied her bath towel and tried to cover her shoulders with it.

This action was more than meets the eye, and he finally understood why she’d behaved like this all the time: She was ashamed of her own body!  
"Oh Jeanne", he muttered gently in their mother tongue and stepped towards her. She still didn’t turn around, but when she felt his warm hands on her shoulders, she flinched. "Why are you ashamed?" he added after a moment.  
"It's ... just that I don’t like my body."  
It made no sense in his eyes. His girlfriend shouldn’t be ashamed of her appearance! Of course, he didn’t love her only for her body, but for her personality. "But why? You're beautiful!" The count replied, gently massaging her shoulders.  
"Look at me! I am not looking _like_ a woman. I am pale, I have big scars, and I am bony like a skeleton! That's not beautiful!"  
"Do you really think, I'm looking for women with big boobs and big butts?" Francis wanted to know, and as she lowered her head, so he turned her around and gently forced her to raise her head again. Her cheeks were bright red with embarrassing. Judging her gaze, he found that she believed exactly what he had just stated.  
"That's what I'm not doing! Jeanne, I love you just as you are! Plump or skinny! Pale or not, breasts or no breasts! I don’t care about those things, because I love you for your personality!" One of his hands touched her cheek and softly caressed it.  
"I find myself ugly, " she contradicted. It incredibly sweet to hear these words from him, but it didn’t change her opinion. She had always felt unattractive, eve in her teenage years, she had compared herself with her friends, finding she was not a _real_ woman. She felt uncomfortable in her body, thanks to everything she went through.  
When she had been a teenage girl, she had been plump but an illness during her months in captivity had made her lost weight, and she had refused to eat. Joan didn’t saw her body as _her_ body but as a cage, which she could never escape.

"For me, you are the most beautiful woman who ever walked under the sun," Francis told her, "and I love every inch of you. Every single scar. You know why?”  
“No. Why?”  
“Because they tell your story." He smiled at her and leaned down to kiss her. "I’ll leave you alone now to get ready. Then I will refresh myself and when I am done, I want you tell me every single story."

On that evening, Joan told him the stories of every scar she owned. With every story, Francis’ love for her grew even more, and when she had finished telling him all the stories, he presented her his own marks.  
"I was very clumsy, as a young man", he explained her, showing a tiny scar on his left hand, "I did not listen to my uncle’s advices and almost cut my finger off."  
Joan smiled. "You almost did that yesterday," she reminded him laughing.  
"What I mean by it, dear Joan, is that I love you the way you are. You don’t have to be ashamed of your body because it is who you are. I will always love you. With or without scars. Of all woman, I would always choose you!"


End file.
